Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COLD WAVE OF 32 B.C., by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS

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THE COLD WAVE OF 32 B.C., by             Poet's Biography
First Line: It is cold, o thaliarchus, and soracte's crest is / white
Last Line: Hurry, o my thaliarchus, let us go that to there place.
Alternate Author Name(s): F. P. A.
Subject(s): Sailing & Sailors; Sea; Seamen; Sails; Ocean

It is cold, O Thaliarchus, and Soracte's crest is white;
There is skating on the Tiber; there is No Relief in Sight.
Tell the janitor the radiator's absolutely cold ...
Let us crack a quart of Sabine; I've a case of four-year old.

Here's to Folly, Thaliarchus! Here is "Banzai!", "Pros't!", and "How!"
We should fret about the future! We should corrugate the brow!
Any joy is so much velvet; Age impinges soon enough.
Why resolve to can the frivol? Why decide to chop the fluff?

On the well-known Campus Martius, as the shade of night descends,
There are ladies castlewalking with their unplatonic friends;
Many a sweetly smiling damsel—need I fill up further space?
Hurry, O my Thaliarchus, let us go that to there place.

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